


It's Dangerous to Go Alone (Take This)

by attackedastoria



Series: Passing Through a Screen Door [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, and bodhi being real emo, and some pining, mostly just feels, no leather pants this time sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9924188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attackedastoria/pseuds/attackedastoria
Summary: Wedge wasn’t planning on getting into a bar fight when this evening started out, but shit happens. And it usually happens tohim, for some reason.[sequel toPlease Insert Coin to Continue]





	

 

Wedge wasn’t planning on getting into a bar fight when this evening started out, but shit happens. And it usually happens to _him_ , for some reason.

He’s chatting up a cute red-head at the bar, using his _good_ lines and hoping he can maybe get her number, since she seems charmed. Before Wedge can even open his mouth to ask, there’s the sound of glass breaking and scuffling— he turns quickly, wanting to make sure whatever is happening is not coming his way to ruin his good time, and then—

_Ah, shit._

_Bodhi_ is currently being pinned up against the wall by a very meaty looking motherfucker, and Wedge doesn’t think he has _ever_ seen Bodhi looking so angry before— fuck, he didn’t even know Bodhi was _here_ , he must have been in the back of the bar—

Wedge is moving towards them before he knows what he’s doing, because _no one_ touches one of his friends, least of all _Bodhi_ , who the fuck does this asswipe think he is— he can hear Mr. Meathead talking, now that’s closer—

“You’ve got a real fuckin’ mouth on you, pretty boy.. what, you think you’re too fuckin’ _good_ for— “ the guy growls, not getting to finish, because Bodhi _spits_ in the guy’s face, eyes blazing like fire, and oh, _fuck_ , that is equal parts hot and incredibly stupid, Wedge thinks—

Mr. Meathead hauls his fist back, but Wedge gets there first, grabbing his arm and yanking him off balance— the guy lets go of Bodhi and swings around, trying to hit Wedge instead now, and Wedge ducks aside quickly. “Hey, fuckface, you know no means no, right?”

“Mind your own fuckin’ business!” the guy swings again, almost catching Wedge this time— Wedge throws out a right hook, connecting with the side of the guy’s face— _ow, fuck, that hurt_ — and before he can do anything else, Bodhi _plows_ into the guy, knocking him over a table and sending glasses shattering as the guy tips ass over teakettle onto the floor.

“Yeah _okay_ , time to go!” Wedge grabs Bodhi’s arms, because Bodhi looks like he wants to _go_ at the asshole, and that is not a good idea— Bodhi tries to shrug him off violently, but Wedge keeps a firm grip and hauls him out of the bar before Mr. Meathead can get up. “Seriously, I can’t take you _anywhere_ , for fuck’s sake, Rook..”

“Fuck off, Wedge.” Bodhi hisses, still trying to shrug him off— Wedge tightens his grip and propels Bodhi down the street, away from the bar, and shoves him into the nearest alley, praying that Mr. Meathead doesn’t come _looking_ for them. 

“You’re really cute when you’re being a pissed off asshole, but seriously, calm down.” Wedge shoves Bodhi into the wall, gently, and holds him there with one hand as Bodhi tries to move away. “ _Please?”_

Bodhi sucks in a deep breath and glares, but doesn’t try to move again, thankfully. Wedge keeps his hand on Bodhi’s chest as he eyes him, trying to see if he’s hurt in the dim light, but he looks like he’s in one piece. “You okay?”

“Fine..” Bodhi’s voice is tight, and Wedge can still see a little bit of fury glowing low and hot in his dark eyes— he moves his hand from Bodhi’s chest to the back of his neck, squeezing it gently.

“Do I _want_ to know what that dickbag did?” Wedge asks, thoughts going dark for a moment, because depending on Bodhi’s answer he might have to go back and kick that motherfucker’s ass _anyway—_

Bodhi clenches his jaw and suddenly rubs a hand over his face, his voice low and bitter when he finally answers. “Apparently _some_ people think being racist is cute, and will totally get them _laid.._ ”

Wedge feels a muscle in his jaw tick, and debates turning around and heading back to the bar, because fuck that guy, he should’ve _kicked his teeth in_ — Bodhi lifts a hand and rests it on Wedge’s arm, squeezing it as he sighs.

“I’m sorry, I just.. been a shit week, I guess that tipped me over.” Bodhi mutters, letting his head thump back against the wall. “I didn’t even know you were there..”

Wedge snorts softly and shakes his head, arching one eyebrow. “You owe me a cute red-head’s number, asshole.”

Bodhi snorts, letting a faint smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Like you would have actually _gotten_ it..”

Wedge scoffs, because he _totally was going to get it_ , she had totally been in the palm of his hand— Bodhi looks at him suddenly, biting his lip, and Wedge can’t control the way his eyes flick to Bodhi’s mouth, because it will _always_ distract him.

“Can I come over for a while?..” Bodhi asks, sounding tired, frustrated, and just a little angry, still. Wedge smiles and nods, squeezing the back of Bodhi’s neck again before letting go.

“I’ve got a stratocaster and leftover pizza with your name on it, my friend.”

 

————

 

They end up at Wedge’s apartment, eating cold pizza and drinking what’s left of Wedge’s supply of gin, because he is a generous, _wonderful_ friend like that.

Bodhi is currently sitting on Wedge’s bed, baby-blue stratocaster in his lap as he cranks out the chords for _Siamese Twins_ , like the emo king he is but _pretends not to be_. Wedge has his old Ibanez in his own lap so he can do the bass line despite his knuckles being a little sore from punching that asswipe earlier, because he does like The Cure despite all the shit he gives Bodhi. He watches as Bodhi’s fingers slide skillfully over the frets, then flicks his gaze up to Bodhi’s face, studying the way his dark lashes fan out against his skin with his eyes closed like that, the way he _always_ bites the left side of his lip when he’s concentrating—

Wedge forces his eyes away, staring at the wall, reminding himself not for the _first_ time that Bodhi is off limits unless he says otherwise. Wedge would take a bullet for Bodhi, and he knows Bodhi would do the same for him, and he’s _not_ going to fuck that up. 

Ever.

 

————

 

Bodhi must have had _quite_ a bit to drink at the bar, because he is _pretty drunk_ by the time they move on to playing _Jesus Christ_ half an hour later, though Wedge will admit that his playing still manages to be above standard, somehow. He’s a little jealous, because he can barely remember what a guitar _is_ when he gets enough gin in him.

“ _Do you believe you’re missin’ out, that everything good is happening somewhere else?.._ ” Bodhi’s voice is slightly slurred, in a husky way that makes Wedge clench his jaw, because Bodhi sounds sexy _normally_ , but this— “ _But with nobody in your bed, the night’s hard to get through..”_

Wedge closes his eyes and wonders why Bodhi has to be so _fucked up_ , and hopes that whoever did this to him is burning in _hell._

 

————

 

Bodhi is now laying flat on his back, attempting to start up _Precious_ next, and Wedge can’t take it anymore.

“Alright, I think that’s enough depressing shit.” he says, rising and going to take his strat away from Bodhi. “I know you’re an emo princess, but come on, even _I’m_ starting to get depressed..”

Bodhi opens his eyes and glares, but lets Wedge take the guitar regardless. “I’m not an _emo princess_ , fuck you..”

“Whatever you say, your majesty.” Wedge snorts, going to put the guitar and his bass back in their proper spots. When he turns around, Bodhi has thrown an arm over his eyes— he lets his eyes drift down for a moment, unable to help himself as he notices Bodhi’s shirt is rucked up, exposing his tan skin—

“When did you get inked?” Wedge blurts out, staring at the vibrant patch of color on the lower half of Bodhi’s ribcage that _certainly_ had not been there last time he’d seen Bodhi shirtless— granted, that was like eight months ago when they fucked, but still. Bodhi stiffens, immediately yanking his shirt down to hide it.

“Few months ago..” he mutters, not moving his arm from over his eyes. Wedge goes to sit next to him on the bed, arching one eyebrow, because now he’s curious— he didn’t think Bodhi was the type to get tattoos, but clearly he was _wrong._

“Can I see?..” Wedge hedges, cautious and hesitant, because he would like to see, but if Bodhi doesn’t want to show him, _that’s fine_ , he won’t push— Bodhi doesn’t say anything for a minute, breathing deeply, and Wedge thinks that maybe he’s fallen asleep— but then Bodhi slowly drags the hem of his shirt back up, tilting onto his side just a bit—

Wedge leans over a bit to get a better look— it’s a _nice_ tattoo, he has to admit. Vibrant, well done, perfect placement. He idly wonders why Bodhi chose a cardinal, and reaches out, brushing his thumb over the banner curled around the bird’s tail— _I swear I’ll never let you down again_ —and he knows that those are Bodhi’s lyrics without even having to ask. Something _clicks_ , suddenly.

“This is a memorial tattoo.” Wedge leans back, licking his lips, because things are starting to make a little sense, now. Bodhi doesn’t say anything, and Wedge frowns a little— “Is this why you’re so fucked up?”

Wedge immediately stiffens, because he did _not_ mean to say that out loud, not like that, what the fuck is _wrong_ with him— he waits for Bodhi’s temper, to see that hot fury blaze in his eyes again, but to his surprise— Bodhi laughs, low and slightly broken, as he rubs a hand over his face.

“Yeah.. yeah, it’s _definitely_ why I’m so fucked up.” Bodhi agrees, rolling onto his back again and staring at the ceiling, not bothering to pull his shirt down. Wedge opens his mouth to apologize, because he feels like an _ass_ , but Bodhi keeps going— “My boyfriend killed himself. It was my fault. I wasn’t.. I wasn’t there, when he _needed_ me.”

Bodhi’s voice sounds absolutely blank, and his eyes have gone flat, _empty_ — Wedge doesn’t know what to _say_ , doesn’t know if he can say anything because his throat feels so tight. _Jesus_ , this poor kid— _this_ is why he won’t let anyone closer than a friend, Wedge realizes, why he won’t let himself have _feelings_ , because he’s chosen to carry this weight on his heart forever, chosen to ink it into his skin so he’ll never forget, like he doesn’t deserve to be happy _ever again_ — fuck. Bodhi’s a _lot_ more fucked up than Wedge ever realized, and thinking about it makes his heart hurt, because _no one_ deserves this kind of shit in their life, least of all Bodhi.

Saying he’s sorry, offering condolences, that won’t cut it, so Wedge leans down instead, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of cardinal’s breast, where it’s being pierced by an arrow— Bodhi’s breath hitches on something that sounds suspiciously like a broken-off sob. Wedge presses another kiss on the tail end of a wing feather and then shifts, laying down on his side and pulling Bodhi into the curve of his body— Bodhi lets him, pressing back against Wedge, like he’s seeking comfort, and Wedge wraps one arm tightly around his waist before pressing a kiss to Bodhi’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna be _okay_ , someday.. I promise.” Wedge murmurs against Bodhi’s skin, and Bodhi’s breath hitches, again and again— Wedge closes his eyes and holds Bodhi as close as he can, knowing that he’s crying, and wishing he could do anything to make it stop, but— he can’t, so he does what he can. Does what Bodhi lets him do. Like he always does.

Bodhi eventually falls asleep, holding on to Wedge’s hand like it’s a lifeline, and Wedge stares at the wall like maybe it can tell him how to fix his best friend.

 

————

When they wake up, Bodhi doesn’t say anything about last night, so neither does Wedge.

Bodhi does roll over and kiss him, long and soft enough to make Wedge whimper a little, because he just wants Bodhi to _be okay_ , and he doesn’t exactly know how to make that happen, and _this_ does not help.

“I’m sorry I’m such a fucking terrible person..” Bodhi whispers when he breaks away from Wedge’s lips, and Wedge swallows hard before shaking his head. 

“You’re not a terrible person.. you’re one of my favorite people. I mean, yeah, you’re fucked up, but so am I.” Wedge admits, and Bodhi snorts softly as he pushes himself up. 

“I’m still sorry.” Bodhi sighs, raking his hair out of his face before grabbing the pack of cigarettes off Wedge’s nightstand. “You’re a good person, and I’m an _asshole_ , and I don’t deserve having you around to put up with my _bullshit_..”

“Shut up, you’re so _emo_ when you’re hungover.” Wedge mutters, pushing himself up and taking the lit cigarette Bodhi offers him. “Seriously, Bodhi.. I told you, I’m here for whatever you need. Jammin’, cuddling, kissing, talking shit.. just stop stealing my cigs, these things are fucking _expensive_.”

Bohi smirks just a little as he lights his own cigarette. “I’m trying to quit, don’t worry.”

“You said that _three months ago_..” Wedge scoffs, taking a drag off his cig, and Bodhi smirks a little wider before turning to look at him.

“I don’t..” Bodhi starts, then stops, licking his lips. Wedge waits patiently, watching as Bodhi takes a heft drag off his cigarette— “I don’t.. tell people. About _this_.” Bodhi places a hand over where his tattoo is, and his eyes are oddly soft when they meet Wedge’s. “I trust you, though.”

Wedge bites his lip, because that— Bodhi doesn’t _trust_ a lot of people, he knows. He can probably count them on one hand. “I won’t tell anyone.” he promises, because he won’t, not ever— Bodhi smiles at him and pushes himself up off the bed, reaching for the flannel shirt he’d tossed over a chair last night.

“You wanna go to the Metro tonight? Spitalfield is playing and Cassian knows the guy working the door.” Bodhi asks, and Wedge grins as he rolls out of the bed, because if there’s one thing he appreciates about Bodhi, it’s that he goes back to business as usual just like that. Probably has something to do with the whole not having _feelings_ thing, though. 

“You gonna be my wingman since you fucked up my night?” Wedge retorts, arching an eyebrow— Bodhi snorts and rolls his eyes as he shrugs his flannel shirt on.

“I’ll make Jyn be your wingman, since she’s better at it..” Bodhi agrees, and that’s good enough for Wedge— Jyn _is_ a good wingman. He thinks she gets more numbers from ladies than he does when they go out.

“Deal.” Wedge smirks, following after Bodhi as he heads towards the door— he offers him two more cigarettes before Bodhi can even ask, and Bodhi smirks as he takes them and tucks them into his shirt pocket.

“Meet us at the train station around eight.” Bodhi says, and Wedge nods, giving him a salute.

“I’ll be there with my best leather pants on, princess.”

Bodhi gives him a _look_ — the one that conveys _’why did I ever decide to put up with you I must hate myself’_ , which is Wedge’s favorite look, personally. He grins cheerfully in reply, winking, and Bodhi places one finger on Wedge’s forehead, pushing him backwards with a sigh.

“ _Goodbye_ , Wedge.”

Bodhi gives Wedge a smile that is a mix of fondness and pure exasperation before he yanks open the door and leaves, and Wedge chuckles as he closes the door behind him. He ashes his cig out in a tray on his way to the bathroom, starting up the shower so he can get ready for class— he thinks back to Bodhi curled up in his arms last night, thinks about the vivid splash of crimson ink on his ribcage, the _emptiness_ in his eyes—

Wedge doesn’t know why his generation has to be so _completely and utterly fucked up_ , but he promises himself he’ll do what he can to make it a little better— if that means finding someone who can make Bodhi realize it’s _okay to feel_ , then that’s what he’ll do. 

Even if it hurts, just a little bit.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This will _probably_ be the last installment of this little background series, but who knows. These stupid boys give me a lot of stupid feels.
> 
> Poor Wedge.. I'll make you happy in the main fic, I swear. I SWEAR.


End file.
